


Big Ol' Fist

by frozenorange



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Episode Tag, Fisting, Insecure!Derek, M/M, Marking, PWP, Spoilers, Spoilers from 3.02, horny!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozenorange/pseuds/frozenorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, big guy. Let’s see it. Let’s see that fist." </p>
<p>Contains fisting, don't like don't read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Ol' Fist

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so sorry, but this needed to be done. Spoilers from 3.02 Chaos Rising, not real spoilers just… well, yeah, you probably should watch the episode first. This is my first time writing porn so I honestly have no idea if I'm doing it right. Why I decided to write a fisting fic for my first time writing porn, I have no idea. Unbeta’ed.

"What do you— what do you think you're gonna do, Derek? You gonna punch through the wall?" Stiles asks incredulous, because there’s no way Derek can take down a solid wall with only his fists.

"Yes, Stiles. I'm gonna punch through the wall," Derek answers, grinning at Stiles that shit eating grin of his that Stiles truly hates.

Stiles glares at him, he’s about to launch into a detailed explanation on why Derek won’t be able to make it even if he’s the alpha and he alone has more muscles than the whole lacrosse team, but instead he decides to challenge Derek. Which turns out is a bad idea.

“Okay, big guy. Let’s see it. Let’s see that fist. Big ol’ fist. Make it. Come on. Get it out there. Don’t be scared. Big, bad wolf. Yeahhh. Look at that,” Stiles says as he takes a hold of Derek’s wrist and puts his sprawled hand three inches away from Derek’s clenched hand.

Then something flashes in Derek’s mind, like a flash back, the words Stiles said triggered something into Derek’s brain and now he’s remembering the last time Stiles used those same words and he wonders if Stiles used those same words on purpose or if it was unconscious.

Derek remembers it in vivid details, the words are the same even though the context was completely different. It was one of the many summer nights that Stiles spent at Derek’s house, in Derek’s bed, making the old bed creak as Derek pounds into him with brutal force, his strong hands leaving bruises on Stiles’ hips as Stiles moaned in pleasure and cried in pain at the same time, lifting his hips eagerly to meet Derek’s thrust to take more.

It’s when Stiles is about to have his fourth orgasm of the night that he tells Derek to stop between sobs. Derek is worried at first, worried that maybe he had hurt Stiles, worried that he might have pushed him a little too far, but before he can ask what’s wrong Stiles is already sitting up and reaching for the discarded bottle of lube.

“Derek,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s neck, pressing the bottle of lube into Derek’s hand.

“Stiles,” Derek groans back mouthing at Stiles’ pale, delicious neck, licking his pulse spot, sucking hard enough to leave a purple bruise.

“Do it,” Stiles orders, golden eyes locking with Derek’s green ones. Green eyes that flash red, if only for a second, when Derek realizes what Stiles wants him to do. It's something they’ve talked about one or two months before, Derek had confessed that he wanted to fuck Stiles with his fist. Stiles had winced at the thought and Derek had flushed bright red ashamed of his fantasy, desperately trying to take it back, worried that he might had offended, or even worse, scared Stiles. With a tender kiss Stiles had assured him that it was okay Derek wanted to do that but that he wasn’t ready yet to give Derek what he wanted. Stiles even excused and Derek’s heart throbbed at the love and trust his mate displayed for him.

Apparently now Stiles is ready. And maybe, just maybe, Derek is not.

“You sure?” he asks, pulling back to look at Stiles directly in the eyes.

“I’m sure. Do it, Derek before I change my mind,” Stiles urges, tugging at Derek’s arm.

Derek blinks, he clearly wasn’t expecting such an offer. He lathers his whole hand with a generous amount of lube and then looks at Stiles again, waiting for permission. When Stiles nods he doesn’t waste time.

He has Stiles on his back with his legs draped over his shoulder in less than three seconds. He uses his fingers first, three, then four, rubbing Stiles’ prostate every chance he gets, just to keep him interested and aroused enough. Derek spends more time than usual preparing him, even if Stiles is already stretched by their previous intercourse, because there’s no way his fist is going to get inside Stiles without hurting and he hopes that a good preparation will make the penetration at least a little bit less painful. He keeps fucking Stiles with only his fingers even when there’s almost no friction and the four fingers he has inside Stiles slips in and out easily, he’s definitely not stalling, not at all.

Truth is that Derek is afraid he might hurt Stiles and do some serious damage because he has no idea how to do this. In his fantasies he fucks Stiles with his whole forearm, fast and hard, and Stiles moans and cries his name and begs for more. Now that he has the opportunity to actually fist-fucking Stiles Derek won’t be that rough but he’s still afraid, still worried that maybe it will hurt too much for Stiles to take it, worried that he won’t be able to stop. His fingers keep working Stiles open as he thinks and he’s distracted by a grunt coming from his mate.

“Okay, big guy. Let’s see it. Let’s see that fist. Big ol’ fist,” Stiles mumbles, he has been prepared enough, it’s time to move this to the next level. His voice is broken and ragged from the multiple orgasms and the arousal he’s still experiencing.

Derek pours more lube on his fist, there’s so much lube on his hand Derek isn’t sure he will smell it for weeks but he wants to make it good for Stiles and he doesn’t want to hurt him. Not much, at least. He curls his fingers in a fist and pushes slowly past the tight ring of muscles. Stiles screams, and it’s not a pleasant sound for Derek to hear, those screams are of pain and not pleasure. Derek stops, his hand completely buried inside his mate up to his wrist, it’s a tight fit and Stiles is clenching hard around him, panting, screaming, Derek can see tears running down Stiles’ temples. “Shhh,” he soothes and places his other hand flat on Stiles’ belly. The veins of his arm turn black as he takes part of Stiles’ pain, and okay maybe that’s count as cheating but he can’t bear seeing Stiles in so much pain knowing he is the cause of such distress. To be honest, Derek can’t stop either. Stiles’ loud noises quiet down to broken sobs, his muscles relax and Derek can move his hand a couple of inches further. He doesn’t. Instead he cups Stiles’ face with his hand and urges him to open his eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” Derek asks, truly concerned for his mate.

Stiles shakes his head frantically, “Keep going.”

Derek kisses Stiles’ temple as he whispers, “I’m going to take it out just a little, tell me if it hurts to much, okay?”

Stiles groans, “Make it. Come on. Get it out there. Don’t be scared. Big, bad wolf.”

Derek withdraws almost completely, covers his hand with more lube and pushes back in, his fist slides in easier than before and Stiles is still tight but not painfully tight, it feels good, Derek’s cock is about to explode.

At one point Stiles stops sobbing and he starts moaning and he actually rocks back on Derek’s hand. Seeing his mate so aroused makes Derek push inside him faster, with more violence, more fast, some of the come of before is leaking down his hand and arm but he doesn’t care, it adds to the lubricant making the penetration easier. It’s gross, but Derek doesn’t care, not when Stiles is screaming his name and arching his hips up, moaning how big Derek fist is and how awesome is to feel it inside him.

Stiles comes without anyone touching his cock and clenches down around Derek’s big fist. Stiles screams as he comes, head thrown back, neck exposed revealing some of the mark Derek had left there before, spurting his seed all over himself and Derek. Derek’s orgasm is more quiet but not less intense, he replaces his fist with his cock and he comes inside Stiles, his dick slipping far too easily past Stiles’ stretched muscles. There’s come and lube everywhere and Stiles is sure he won’t be able to walk for a week but it’s worth it.

Derek remembers exactly that when Stiles challenges him, curling his fingers around Derek’s wrist, like he did that night when he pushed the lube in his hand. They have serious business to get down to and Derek doesn’t have time for those stupid mind games Stiles plays. He punches Stiles’ hand hard, not enough to break it but hard enough to hurt like a bitch. To the others that punch was nothing more than Derek proving his point, instead Stiles knows that Derek understood, he sees that Derek’s jeans got considerably tighter.

He looks up at Derek, the unspoken message in his eyes, clear. _Bad Stiles. Keep your mouth shut._  

And then something changes in the way he looks at Stiles, another unspoken word, a promise. _Later._


End file.
